


Nothing Left but Our Regrets

by Skeletical



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Natural Disasters, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-10-02 23:37:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10230548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletical/pseuds/Skeletical
Summary: They found each other in the night, and together waited for the world to end.





	1. He Came in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, look at this. Another McHanzo fic aaaaaaaah, what am I doing with my life.  
> This is honestly the first multi-chapter fic I've written in 6 years so please, PLEASE wish me luck on this one. It probably won't be very long, that's not my style, but let's ride this rollercoaster together, shall we?
> 
> You can find me on http://hawke-enthusiast.tumblr.com/ be sure to scream about McHanzo to me there. I appreciate that kinda thing a lot.

Jesse McCree never thought himself to be a religious man, not in the slightest. He had never bothered to even consider the possibility of a deity actually existing; never thought to wonder about why humanity exists or how it came to be. He had never prayed before in his life. He had never considered the world to ever actually end, despite all the close calls in its history.  
Funny how Armageddon could bring a man such as Jesse McCree to his knees, hands clasped and begging to whatever higher power would listen to please end this madness.

Desperate men resorted to desperate measures.

The cowboy was hiding from the world collapsing around him, his mind briefly wandering to the many explosions he'd seen in his time with Deadlock and Blackwatch before he dismissed the memories, his trusty Peacekeeper in its holster as he flinched away from another rumble from outside. What plagued the surface of the earth out there was not something McCree could shoot. He couldn't save anyone by using his Deadeye; what good were bullets when one was facing off with global natural disasters?  
The unnatural lights that hung from the ceiling flickered, plunging the underground shelter the man had taken up residence in in complete darkness for a terrifying moment before they came back on.

McCree exhaled.

His relief was short lived.

Insistent knocking came from the heavily bolted entrance above, differentiating itself from the rumbles and other concerning noises that had been coming from outside by the rapidness of it. The cowboy held his breath, debating whether or not to open his safe haven to whoever... _whatever_  was out there. A brief moment passed, the knocking halting. Jesse narrowed his eyes, not expecting the source to have left just yet. He heard a muffled call but he stayed rooted to the spot. Another five minutes passed and when no new signs of another being’s presence made themselves known, McCree’s body relaxed gradually.

What a coward he was. A self-proclaimed vigilante who couldn’t even open his door to see if whoever had been there needed his help.

The man clicked his tongue at himself, frowning as he turned and moved to busy himself with tidying up his small living space. Not that it particularly needed any tidying; McCree barely had any belongings with him in the shelter, save for what he had on his person when he stumbled across the hidden and frankly ancient bomb shelter. But what a fool Jesse would have to be to pass up on such a place with everything happening up there. His brown eyed gaze slid over to the Geiger counter mounted to the wall opposite of him, smiling wryly to himself. Maybe nukes would’ve been better than the terrifying earthquakes, risen sea levels and the sudden spikes and drops in temperature all across the globe. The cowboy had been an actual witness to someone boiling their own goddamn brain by being outside in the sun for 3 minutes and not even two hours later it’d been impossible to collect the body if they had wanted to; the snow piling too high, the screaming wind prone to freeze whoever went out to solid ice. Not the kind of weather a cowboy preferred, that was for sure. Especially one as survival-driven as Jesse McCree. It wasn’t like he feared death, quite the opposite really, but that didn’t mean he sought it out unnecessarily. He wouldn’t have made it to the ripe age of 37 if he had.

The radio crackled to live out of nowhere, startling to man out of his thoughts. His head snapped around, eyes narrowing at the machine before he reached over and turned the volume down, wondering if it had been on this entire time. If so, that was an enormous waste of batteries. He hoped they would last a little longer; he didn’t know when the weather conditions would allow him to go outside to scavenge again. Times were hard, sir, times were hard.

Jesse fingered the on/off switch, frowning when he found the radio had been turned on this entire time. Damn it. It wasn’t likely that he would be receiving any broadcasts any time soon anyway; governments had fallen ages ago and the extremities in the air usually made it impossible to broadcast at all. Clever and lucky fella who managed that, McCree figured. Still, he couldn’t let go of the tiny sliver of hope that if he just held out long enough the static on the radio would shift into a crackle, recognisable as a voice. Someone out there, trying to reach out to whoever was left. A downright stupid idea, Jesse knew, but sometimes it was all that kept him going. After all, as far as he knew, all his friends were dead. Maybe he should’ve never left Blackwatch, even if it had meant blowing up with Reyes and Morrison. Would’ve saved him this trouble, at least.

McCree turned the radio off and looked around. Sometimes when he woke up from a particularly bad nightmare, the metal walls that protected him felt like they were suffocating him. Trapping him. His eyes found a few scratch marks on the wall where his bed hung from the ceiling, suspended by thick chains. His fingers itched as he remembered the ache it had left, how bloodied his fingers had been as his half-conscious mind led him to trying to claw his way out of this steel coffin. He glanced down at the glove that covered the scars the incident had inevitably left. Then he raised his prosthetic left arm, inspecting the small scratches it had left on the equally strong metal fingers. McCree was glad he’d been half asleep; if he had been able to use his full strength with that arm, he’d be in big trouble. Something told him that fixing a hole in an underground shelter would take more than just covering it up with a spare plate of steel.

A quiet rumble broke the silence and for a moment Jesse passed it off as another weather phenomenon before he realised it had been his stomach. He rested his right hand over his stomach briefly, glancing at the stocked shelves before he walked over. Everything was canned, the only food still edible in this world. Nothing grew on the surface any more so unless McCree could get his hands on seeds, soil and a proper lamp Jesse doubted he would ever eat anything fresh again. He figured he could try to set up a couple plants down here but the prospects were bleak, simply put.

A can of beans was swiftly opened and heated on the old stove. Uneventful. Boring. Jesse sighed and rubbed his face. Hiding out always had been dull but this... This was a whole different kind. Boredom with a tinge of fear; McCree was afraid that this was going to be the rest of his life, however long or short that would be. Steel plate walls, barely functioning flickering lights, two shitty suspended beds (one of which remained empty) and a small table with a couple of chairs. The bare minimum. At least the person who had built this shelter had thought to make proper sanitation. A small cubicle that contained a toilet sat in the middle of the space, working as a good divide between the kitchen and what was supposed to pass for the sitting and sleeping area.

He missed his guitar.

Hell, he missed music in general. The few magazines and books that had been left in the shelter had been thumbed through and read had been satisfactory for a little while but Jesse could only read them so many times before he could rattle off the exact contents of the books perfectly in his sleep. Boring.

The silence was unbearable sometimes. Enough to allow McCree to turn on the radio just to hear the static, to make sure he still _could_  hear. An unrational fear, the gunslinger was well-aware, but still. _Still_.

The sound of steel protesting echoed through the small space and it forced a shiver up Jesse’s spine as he ducked his head. The sound was familiar but in no way was it comforting. From a young age, McCree had hated closed spaces. Felt a need to wander out in the desert when he was with Deadlock. Craved the open fields at Watchpoints after training inside. Was limited to short outings while on the run from Blackwatch and bounty hunters. This did nothing for him other than put him on edge. He despised this shelter as much as he was thankful for it. Not the first time McCree’s feelings conflicted. It’d been the same at Blackwatch. Thankful for his life; cynical about the organisation’s ideals. Righting injustice? There’s no end to it. Why bother?

Of course, his initial outlook had changed. He slowly realised that he could make amends for his past, could help people. And he could do it _his_ way. Not by beating around the bush like those damn bureaucrats. At least Reyes had taught him that, if nothing else.

The beans were done. McCree grabbed a fork and ate them straight out of the can. He hoped for a mild day soon so he could go outside for a little while then went to bed.

 

*** * ***

 

He woke with a start, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to figure out if the knocks at the top of his shelter were remnants of his dream; a trick played by his tired mind. Or if they were in fact real. The gunslinger swallowed and slid off of his bed, his feet hitting the floor heavily. He flinched at a cry. It was loud. Too loud. Must be his imagination. McCree tried to steady his breathing, shut his eyes and tried to listen for sounds that were real. The creak of metal, his own strained breaths and the panicked thumping at the latch.

Jesse opened his eyes, staring at the open door that seperated the living quarters from the tube that held the ladder to the surface. It would be easy to just shut it and hope that the echoing of that damn knocking would be silenced.

He could hear his heart as he pulled on his boots and walked towards the door. Rather than disappearing, the knocking persisted, felt even more urging. And standing closer, McCree felt revolted to hear a voice. He couldn’t make out what the person outside was saying, couldn’t even place any details about the voice. Jesse just... knew. His hand found the latch on the door and soon after, his feet found the railings that served as a ladder.

McCree climbed up, reluctant and feeling sick to his stomach. What if whoever was outside wasn’t some innocent idiot that needed the cowboy’s help. What if it were raiders, having found him? Hoping to kill him and take all his supplies? His nightmare was too fresh in his mind though, the guilt too heavy on his heart to risk turning away some poor fool. Like he had done hours prior.  

Jesse hated how loud the thumping was as he reached the latch. He brought his prostethic arm up, returning the knocks for a moment, just to alert the person out there that he was going to open up. For once, he felt relieved at the silence it brought.

He turned the valve, took a deep breath then pushed the heavy lid up some, just enough to peer through the small crack.

“Who’s there?” McCree’s voice was hoarse from its lack of use. He had no one to talk to, anyway. Jesse frowned. He didn’t want to sound pathetic. He cleared his throat briefly then continued on, “I’ll have you know, partner, I’ve only got space for one more. If there’s more of ya, I can’t help.”

It stayed silent for a moment longer before a gruff voice answered him, “I’m by myself. Please, let me in. The conditions are changing. If I stay out here, I will die.”

Oh but, wasn’t that voice just beautiful? Jesse looked at the boots in front of him; all that he could see of the stranger begging for entrance. And wasn’t the cowboy just an old, lonely fool?

“Try not to kill me, partner.” He said before he pushed the latch open a little further, inviting the other man to join him. “Hurry, now. And lock ‘er up tight again, y’hear?” Jesse said as he started making his way back down. He glanced back up briefly but in the dark, he couldn’t see much so with a nervous heart he continued his way down. Once there, he stepped through the door once more and turned back to wait for the other to step into the light.

And when he did, Jesse couldn’t believe his stupid eyes. A short but strong looking man stood in front of him, his dark hair tied back save for a single lock of hair hanging in the man’s face and a bow hanging on his back. He was dressed in a jacket with a big collar, dark trousers and equally dark boots. McCree blinked. This man looked nothing if not regal, even in the almost combat-like attire. Often times, handsome men meant bad luck for Jesse McCree.

He opened his mouth to speak but was quickly cut off by the stranger.

“Thank you.”

The gunslinger nodded slowly, reaching up to run his hand through his brown hair. “It’s no problem... Er...”

His words were met with a raise of a brow.

“... Sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“I haven’t told you my name.”

“Care to share it?”

McCree watched the man’s expression shift, it was quick, hard to notice if you didn’t pay attention to it. Disgust seemed to cross the handsome stranger’s face, quickly followed by calculation which in turn was replaced by reluctance before the expression finally settled on neutral once more. Or what seemed to be neutral for this man anyhow; Jesse was already pretty certain that a scowl was just his resting face with how natural it looked on him.

“Hanzo.”

“I’m Jesse McCree.” The cowboy paused for a moment then offered a small, polite smile as he continued, “Well, Hanzo, I guess I’ll show you around then.”


	2. Terms of Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They speak with each other. They agree and disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. Almost a year late. I'm honestly not sure what happened but I hadn't had the motivation to upload or continue this story until now. I'm sorry it took so long!!! Hope you can still enjoy this though. :)

It didn’t make him feel at ease. Having another person there. Jesse had hoped it would have helped him, hoping that he could push back the feeling of insane loneliness that creeped up on him every single day. Getting closer each second to poisoning his mind beyond repair.

Well, it did keep that at bay, at least.

But in its stead, paranoia settled in the cowboy’s bones, colouring his vision each time he heard Hanzo make a noise, every time he saw Hanzo move. It didn’t help that McCree could see the knife the other man carried with him, constantly on the man’s body. Within easy reach. Jesse felt sick that he would feel so distrusting; after all, he was the one who let Hanzo into his shelter.

His gaze was set on the other as he sat at the small table. They hadn’t talked much since Hanzo arrived, in the dead of night the day before. Jesse had only showed Hanzo the two rooms the shelter had then pointed at the unoccupied bed and told him it was his. The cowboy had returned to his own cot, spending the rest of the night lying awake and listening for any sounds that could indicate that the other was going to try and kill him in his sleep.

“What’s it like up there?” It slipped out before McCree realised it but instead of dwelling on that for too long, he merely pressed his lips together to shut himself up again.

The other man looked up from the book in his hands, almost looking surprised at the sudden question. Jesse thought he could see it flicker in Hanzo’s eyes briefly but he didn’t feel sure. He felt like he couldn’t trust his own instincts and emotions at the moment; especially those regarding the stranger in his space.

It stayed silent a moment longer before Hanzo spoke, lowering his book, “It’s hell. How long have you been down here, that you do not know that?”

The man had an accent. Not American. Possibly Japanese? Jesse didn’t take the time to dwell on it.

“I do know that,” McCree frowned, indignant, “I just haven’t gone out in-“ How long that it been?  
“- a while. I haven’t need to. Is it cold or hot season right now?”

The shorter man seemed unresponsive to the slight hostility in his host’s voice, merely shrugging as he sat back in his uncomfortable chair.

“Cold. There was a good in-between period. Unfortunately, it only lasted for a few days. It is taking me longer to reach my destination than I thought which is why I required your help.”

The cowboy listened to the explanation, his thoughts briefly wandering to the last time he’d been out on the surface. Must be important, if Hanzo was willing to take the risk of travelling. “Where were y’off to then?”

The other man said nothing. Jesse frowned slightly, but he made an attempt at hiding it by laughing good-heartedly and shrugging his shoulders. One of his old mannerisms; to make other people feel more at ease around the gunslinger.

“I’m just curious, partner. Ain’t gotta tell me. Unless you’re a raider, in which case, do tell.”

Hanzo’s eyebrow quirked elegantly, his gaze following the cowboy’s hand movements as if only just now aware of the fact that the man was cleaning his revolver. The sentence, combined with the handgun made it seem like a threat. The stranger gave a gruff grunt in reply, “I wouldn’t waste my talents on that filth.”

“No?”

“No.”

“And what’re those talents then, Mr. Hanzo?” Jesse prodded, if only to get a raise out of the other man. See what he was like when he was angry.

“They are none of your concern at this time, Mr. McCree.”

“I beg to differ. You’re in my shelter, with weapons. Tellin’ me your ‘talents’ are too good for raiders. Makes me wonder what those talents entail and what you _would_ use them for.”

“Everyone carries weapons on the surface. That’s nothing special. I’m simply saying that siding with raiders would be a waste of my proficiency with said weapons.”

“Ain’t that somethin’. Still haven’t told me what you use them for instead, though.”

Hanzo seemed put off by this line of questioning, his scowl hardening as he leaned forward in his chair, one arm braced on the table between the two of them as he spoke, “I mostly use them on blabbering fools who don’t know when to shut their mouth.”

“Besides, as I said; raiders are filthy.”

The silence that followed was only broken by the metal creaking and protesting. A sound that apparently set Hanzo on edge, if his darting eyes were any indication. He opened his mouth to speak but McCree interrupted him before a sound could come out of the man’s throat.

“Don’t worry. It does that. Hasn’t collapsed on me yet, probably won’t collapse on us now.”

“Hm. ‘Probably’. You say it so carelessly.”

Jesse shook his head. Seemed like Hanzo didn’t seem to trust McCree much either. That was both fine and worrisome at the same time. For all intents and purposes, they might just kill each other over a misunderstanding. Thrilling, but definitely not convenient for survival.

“Ain’t like it really matters. Even if it were to collapse anytime soon, there’s no way we could survive up there if a cold season is startin’.”

“It might not be too late yet.” Hanzo retorted, though the words seemed a lot more defensive than ought to be necessary in Jesse’s mind. “There might be another shelter in the garden next door. One that isn’t occupied.”

McCree couldn’t help the grin on his face at that, “Maybe.” He merely agreed.

Hanzo scoffed slightly, well-aware of Jesse’s smug doubt. Like he was well-aware the chances of that possibility were slim. Instead of replying, the man simply picked his book back up and shifted his gaze to read the pages once more. McCree was almost jealous; he wish he could read that book again like he hadn’t before. As if he didn’t know the story yet.

With a quiet sigh,  he finished wiping down Peacekeeper. He stood up, sliding her back into her holster before he stretched his arms up above his head and yawned. He barely had the space to do so; his knuckles pressed up against the ceiling of the shelter.

He dropped his arms. Another sigh before he reached back up to scratch the back of his neck, sweeping his gaze over the small space the two of them now shared. There was nothing to do. Jesse wandered over to the small shelf attached to one of the walls, grabbing a pencil and a paper before he sat back down. He tapped the paper with the back of the pencil briefly before he wrote something down, turning it and sliding it over to Hanzo who looked up at the movement.

 

**_Terms of Stay_ **

**_1\. No opening the hatch unless granted permission._ **

**_2\. No complaining about the food. There are no plates. I checked._ **

**_3\. The cot is uncomfortable. I know. Get used to it._ **

**_4\. Clean up behind yourself._ **

**_5\. Don't kill me._ **

**_6\. If you do kill me, don't make Peacekeeper dirty._ **

**_7\. Sharing of entertainment is mandatory._ **

 

****

Hanzo simply looked back up at his host after reading the ‘terms’, staying silent for a moment.

“Anything else I should add?” McCree asked, a grin spreading on his face. It was almost uncomfortable how easy it was for the cowboy to get used to socialising again. Despite their apparently rocky start.

Hanzo still said nothing as he put down his book once more, plucking the pencil from Jesse’s fingers before he wrote something underneath the gunslinger’s chicken scratch. He then added his signature next to McCree’s at the bottom of the page.

****

**_8\. Basic personal hygiene is mandatory._ **

****

Turning the paper back so he could read the new addition, Jesse’s eyebrows shot up before he looked at his guest, “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you implyin’ somethin’?”

In reply he got a small smirk from Hanzo as he mimicked the other from just a few minutes ago, “Maybe.”

Jesse briefly narrowed his eyes in response but got up quickly enough to brush his teeth when Hanzo continued, “Were the beans from last night-”

“Alrigh’, alrigh’! I get it!” McCree’s cheeks warmed up in embarrassment as moved the toothbrush over his teeth, stubbornly keeping his gaze on the small mirror in front of himself. He hadn’t thought about cleaning up yet. It just hadn’t occurred to him, especially what with the new company and all. This… Was really embarrassing. Jesse almost felt like a young adult again, freshly picked up from Deadlock, scolded by Reyes over personal hygiene and the importance of it.

Hanzo laughed and that was enough to give McCree pause. He quickly glanced at the other man before he averted his gaze once more, spitting out the toothpaste in the sink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, setting his toothbrush back before he took a deep breath and returned to the table with a headshake, “Could’ve just said somethin’, y’know.” He sighed as he sat down once more.

“I thought this was quite entertaining though.” Hanzo replied with a small grin and Jesse rolled his eyes at that.

“Speaking of entertainin’,” He started, turning the terms towards Hanzo once more, his finger tapping at the seventh point. “’Sharing of entertainment is mandatory’. Cough up any books you have in that bag of yours. I read all of these at least four times.” His small smirk was met with a small scoff but Hanzo still moved to open up the bag at his feet and a moment later he dropped two books on the table.

Jesse was quick to snatch one of the books, not even bothering to read what the story was about as he opened it up and started on the first page.

“I suppose if there is anything else we must add to these…’terms’, we can do that at any time, yes?”

McCree shrugged, too engrossed in the new story material in his hands, replying with a off-handed, “Sure.”

The mutter of “Perfect” that followed in reply went completely unnoticed by the cowboy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again sorry for such a long wait. I'm no good at multi-chaptered fics. Promise I'll try to upload the next chapter way faster than a year from now, haha! If I don't, come yell at me at http://hawke-enthusiast.tumblr.com/ for it. That'll probably kickstart me.

**Author's Note:**

> WOO EEH, okay that's the first chapter! Lemme know what you think and thank you for reading! I'll see ya on the next one.


End file.
